


Conventional Coffee Romances

by allthingsavenger



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Getting Together, M/M, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 07:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthingsavenger/pseuds/allthingsavenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A coffee shop AU in which Tony works in the local coffee shop living off caffeine and sharing the love. Steve enters to a confronting chalkboard sign which claims that the barista is 'gay' and 'desperately single'. Then he meets Tony and Tony has nice eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conventional Coffee Romances

**Author's Note:**

> Written for damnthtrdjis1sexybeathuh who wanted fluff.  
> 

The coffee shop is dimly lit but the light filtering in through the windows is more than compensating. Steve ducks through the doorway and takes a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of ground coffee and tea, earthy and rich, mixed in with the happy sound of chatter and laughter.

He waits to order and runs his hand along the countertop. A chalkboard stands propped up against where the countertop meets the wall. He misjudges the length of the countertop and knocks it off, reflexes kicking in to snatch it out of the air before it hits the ground.

“Nice catch,” a voice says and Steve turns around to see twinkling eyes watching him from across the counter, accompanied by a neatly trimmed beard. He’s handsome, dark eyes and dark hair, and by the way he holds himself, vain enough to know it. He smiles with his eyes, Steve thinks.

Steve kicks up the corner of his mouth in response and puts the chalkboard back against the wall, eyeing it warily. It reads,

_Today your barista is:_

_1\. Hella fucking gay_

_2\. Desperately single_

_For your drink today I recommend: You give me your number._

Steve blushes. He looks up to see handsome-with-smiling-eyes grinning at him. He says, “you should follow the recommendation.”

Steve swallows, just standing there because he isn’t quite sure what he’s meant to do.

“I’m just joking, what can I get you?”

Steve breaths a sigh of relief, “coffee, whatever you like to drink.” That gets him a grin.

“Can I get it in a takeaway cup?” he asks.

“Sure, is that all?”

“Yeah,” he smiles.

“That will be three dollars fifty, can I get a name?”

“Steve.”

He drops a five dollar bill in the tip jar. The barista smiles at him and Steve smiles back. Then he goes over to wait for his coffee. Between paying and getting his coffee, Steve manages to mind a stroller for a young lady who needs to go to the bathroom, tie a young boy’s shoelaces for him and catch a cup of coffee in a takeaway cup after someone knocks it off the counter.

“Nice catch,” someone says and Steve turns around to see the same pair of twinkling eyes smiling at him as a hand slides his coffee across the counter.

“Thanks,” Steve says, picking it up and replacing the rescued drink.

He goes to sit down, taking a newspaper from the stand as he passes it. The coffee smells, and tastes, rich and earthy and as he puts it down on the coffee table, Steve sees the writing on the side where his hand had been.

He picks it up again. There is a number scrawled in permanent marker and a message.

_Since you didn’t give me yours -Tony._

He blinks, twice and smiles then finishes his coffee and takes out a pen. When he leaves, he drops his napkin in the tip jar. It has his number on it and a doodle of Tony balancing three cups of coffee on his head and three more in each hand. It also says,

_You have nice eyes._

He doesn’t sign it because he’s pretty sure Tony remembered his name. As he ducks out of the shop he can hear the clink of coins in the tip jar.

* * *

Tony texts him.

It’s the middle of the night and Steve’s not really sure why he still has his phone on but he’s awake when his phone chimes. In fact, he’s wide awake, sitting against the bed frame and he’s reading, only the sound of his breathing audible.

His phone says _Hey Steve, it’s Tony._

Then, a second later, _What’s up?_

Steve picks it up, setting down his book on the bed.

 _I’m reading a book_ , he sends.

Tony’s response is almost immediate.

_Really? What are you reading?_

Steve chews on his bottom lip.

_Matilda by Roald Dahl._

There is a minute where his phone doesn’t do anything. Then Tony texts him again.

_Well, you’re something else._

Steve blushes immediately. What is he supposed to say to that? He doesn’t know so he just waits for Tony to text him again. He does eventually.

_What are you doing up at half past 2 in the morning?_

_I got caught up_ , Steve tells him and he can almost imagine Tony’s laughter, because he’s a grown man reading children’s books, but he didn’t get to read a lot when he was younger and he likes them. He imagines Tony laughing and thinks, I bet Tony laughs with his eyes too.

 _You’re like a giant Matilda_ , Tony says and Steve laughs.

 _What are YOU doing up at half past 2?_ he asks.

 _I have no sense of time and I get caught up_ , he says.

 _Caught up doing what?_ Steve asks.

_Right now? Fixing this car._

Steve bets he looks surprised. He _is_ surprised.

 _That’s really neat,_ he says.

 _You’re really neat,_ Tony replies and Steve smiles.

 _Anyway_ , Tony continues, _do you want to go out tomorrow for lunch or something?_

Steve smiles even wider.

 _Lunch or something sounds great_ , he says.

_Awesome. Come by the shop at 12._

Steve grins.

 _12 in the morning or 12 noon?_ he asks.

He doesn’t get an answer for two minutes.

Then, _I’m not going to answer that, Steve._

* * *

Steve arrives at the coffee shop at fifty nine past eleven. Tony comes outside at one past twelve.

“Hey,” he says, spotting Steve standing by the doorway.

“Hey,” Steve echoes.

“Someone was snarky last night,” Tony says and Steve feels his cheeks heat.

“Someone’s thinking ahead,” Tony smirks and Steve give him his most affronted look.

“You, you are incredibly rude,” he blurts.

“Really?” Tony says, taking his elbow and steering him along the sidewalk.

“Well,” Steve says, “I wasn’t ‘thinking ahead,’ it just sounded…”

Tony laughs and Steve looks over. He laughs with his whole body, he thinks.

“Okay,” Tony says and tugs him down a side street, “if you say so.”

They arrive two streets later at a small burger joint.

“Do you like burgers?” Tony asks when they’re standing at the door.

“I guess I do,” Steve says. They go inside and the waitress shows them to a booth by the window.

Tony orders something but Steve isn’t paying attention. Instead, he is watching Tony, intrigued by the way he moves and sits, exuding charm in every movement.

When the waitress asks him what he wants, he stares at her.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” he says, and apparently it’s a good answer because she smiles, jotting it down in her notebook befores taking their menus.

“Did you say you fix cars?” Steve says when she’s gone and Tony beams at him.

“Well, I fix them if they need fixing, but most of the time they don’t, so I improve them.”

Steve leans forward, “you make cars better?”

“Not just cars,” Tony says eagerly, “pretty much anything electronic or mechanic that I can get my hands on.

“That’s really neat,” Steve says and Tony’s eyes are twinkling again.

“You’re really neat,” and Steve blushes.

“That looks good on you,” Tony tells him.   
“What looks good on me?” Steve asks, confused.

“This,” Tony says and pats Steve’s cheek with his index finger. Steve blushes, again.

“You have nice eyes,” Steve blurts.

“So I’ve heard,” Tony says, amused and smiling, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

Their food arrives and Steve looks away, taking a large bite out of his burger so he won’t say anything else embarrassing.

“I used to love Matilda,” Tony muses suddenly and Steve looks up at him, his mouth full of food. He doesn’t say anything, chewing.

“I don’t really know why, I suppose,” Tony continues, “I guess because I related to her. I never really connected with my parents and a lot of people hated me because I was such a smartass.”

Steve stares, wide-eyed. When he swallows his food, he says, “why, that’s _horrible_.”

Tony looks at him thoughtfully, taking a bite of his burger.

“It wasn’t all bad,” he says eventually, “I had a lot of free time to myself.”

Steve says nothing.

“Anyway,” Tony says, waving away Steve’s concern, “do you want to come over and help me with the car?”

Steve brightens immediately, “I’d _love_ to.”

* * *

“Can you pass the wrench?” Tony’s voice asks from underneath the car.

“I can pass the wrench,” Steve says agreeably, placing the wrench in the waiting hand poking out from the side of the car.

“Can you pass the blue screwdriver?” Tony asks.

“I can pass the blue screwdriver,” Steve answers, passing him the blue screwdriver.

Tony rolls out from underneath the car and stands. He has grease in his hair and it looks surprisingly endearing on him.

“You have grease in your hair,” Steve points out and Tony runs a hand through his hair absentmindedly.

“Here,” Tony says, yanking up the hood of the car and pointing to something in the complicated maze of machinery.

Steve walks over to stand next to him and then Tony is showing him something, something complicated but not too hard which he makes Steve do by flicking his wrist when he has the wrench in the right place, walking him through it patiently and eagerly.

Steve is only half paying attention to the car. The rest of him is cataloguing all the different, interesting things about Tony.

“You smell nice,” he comments and Tony stops talking, turning to look up at him. He looks into bright eyes and suddenly realises that they’re breathing the same air.

Tony watches him until the wrench slips and Steve loses his balance, falling forwards onto Tony. The hand holding the wrench shoots outwards and catches something sharp and he cries out in surprise more than pain.

Tony is saying something and he looks horrified so Steve looks down at his hand to find it bleeding down the side.

“Oh,” he says, mildly taken aback.

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” Tony curses, prying himself out from between Steve and the car and bolts to the sink on the other side of his garage, pulling open the cabinet above it. He makes Steve go over to him and washes his hand. Then there is a strip of gauze being applied to his hand and Steve stares.

“Why do you even have all this stuff?” he asks, curiosity getting the better of him.  
Tony laughs, doing the full body vibration thing that Steve finds ridiculously captivating.

“I don’t just work on cars down here,” he says cryptically, “cars are the _safe_ part.”

Steve smiles at him, “I see.”

“Anyway,” Tony says, inspecting his handiwork critically, “I think that’s enough cars for today.”

They go up from the garage and sit on the couch together and Tony puts on Matilda. Something warm spreads through Steve when Tony triumphantly announces what they’re watching to Steve and the rest of the empty living room.

Steve watches the movie intently and Tony switches between watching the movie and watching Steve.

He doesn’t say anything during the film because Steve is fixated to the screen, except when the headmistress appears for the first time.

“Miss Trunchbull is a hag,” Tony says and Steve laughs and puts his arm around Tony.

* * *

Steve wakes with the sun. He doesn't notice anything at first, and then he notices everything all at once. The cramp in his side, the crick in his neck, the sun coming through the still open blinds making him squint. Most of all though, he feels the weight of Tony against his side and shoulder, solid and warm and very much _there_ , and he lets the corner of his mouth creep upwards and the sun warm his face as his memory seeps back slowly.

After the movie ended, they had played chess and then ‘go fish.’ Tony won both games but Steve won Jenga. Tony ordered takeaway and afterwards they found a box of old legos Tony had when he was younger and sat on the couch making things and telling stories until Tony had fallen asleep on Steve’s shoulder. Steve had watched the rise and fall of his chest for a long time and for the first time since his mother had died, he hadn’t felt alone.

Tony doesn't stir so Steve gets up eventually, lying Tony down gently. There isn't much in the way of prepared or ready-to-eat food in Tony's kitchen so Steve pulls some ingredients out of the pantry. When Tony does eventually wake up, it's to the sound of Steve humming 'Mamma Mia' and the smell of pancakes wafting over from the kitchen. He wanders in sleepily and gives Steve a crooked smile.

"You can cook too?" he says dopily and Steve sets down a plate of pancakes in front of him and ruffles his hair.

"Kind of," Steve answers.

* * *

The first time Steve kisses Tony, he's telling Steve about his childhood, which, if he's being honest, makes Steve's gut twist and something in his chest ache.

He's watching Tony carefully, watching the way Tony doesn't meet his eye and is talking in a heartbreakingly subdued tone when he has the sudden urge to kiss him and hold him as close as he can and never let him feel alone again.

So he does, he leans across the couch where they're sitting and curls his index finger underneath Tony's chin, tilting his down-turned face up to look into his eyes.

"I don't want you to be lonely," he says honestly and the look Tony gives him is so open, so vulnerable and so hopeful that Steve's heart almost breaks.

Tony doesn't say anything so Steve leans into his space and breathes his air until their lips are only an inch apart.

Tony has stopped breathing by then and Steve is holding his breath and then Tony's hand finds his and Steve bridges the distance, pressing his lips to Tony's as softly as he ever could.

Their kiss is long and lingering and Tony opens up for him as Steve kisses him earnestly, honestly.

When Tony pulls away, breathless, Steve wraps his arms around him and pulls him as close as he can and he presses his cheek to Tony's hair as Tony presses his face into Steve's neck.

"I won't be because I've got you," he whispers.

* * *

Steve opens up slowly, more slowly than Tony does but it happens as surely as the sun rising each morning, throwing rays of golden sunlight over Tony's skin as he slumps against Steve.

He does it without realising, like the way he lets Tony lean on him petulantly when they're walking down the street or the when he traces circles into Tony's skin as they watch movies together.

But in the early hours of the night one day he wakes up to find Tony lying sprawled over him with his fingers still linked between Steve's and for the first time for as long as he can remember, he's completely and utterly happy.

"Happiness," his mother would often tell him when she was alive, "is hard to find and even harder to keep."

Then she would ruffle his hair fondly and continue, "some happiness isn't worth keeping at all but when your happiness is someone else's happiness," and she would lower her voice to a murmur, "you will never find anything better," and she would kiss him on the cheek.

Steve watches Tony sleep through the darkness and slowly, surely, the part of him which he never put back together when his mother died, leaving only frustration and pain which eventually became loneliness in its wake, mends itself piece by broken piece until he can't speak, can hardly breath.

Love, he thinks in the silence of the night, broken only by the quiet sound of Tony's breathing.

In the morning, he will tell Tony about it, about love and how he eventually found it, long after he had stopped searching.

 


End file.
